


In Narrow Daylight

by Topaz_Eyes



Series: 24: Narrow Daylight [1]
Category: 24
Genre: Angst, First Time, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-16
Updated: 2005-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has bittersweet news for Jack while he's in hiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Narrow Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-4th season, now AU. Deepest gratitude to [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=)[****](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=)**[](../users/jazzypom/)**jazzypom**** for the story beta. Title and introductory lines from "Narrow Daylight" by Diana Krall and Elvis Costello.

_Shining hours were brief--_

_Winter is over, summer is near:_

_Are we stronger than we believe?_

_****************************_

(The following takes place between 3:00 pm and 4:00 pm.)

The silver-gray late-model Dodge Ram 2500 barreled along the straightaways of the two-lane rural highway in the brilliant late May sunlight. The man at the wheel appeared completely relaxed as the truck skidded cleanly around the winding tight curves. His dark eyes were shaded by sunglasses and his equally dark hair was covered by a nondescript baseball cap. He drove as if he belonged there--perhaps a farmer, or a rancher, or, given the high rate of speed he was cruising at, a rig worker at one of the surrounding gas fields. Though Tony Almeida hailed from California, and had never been on the high prairies before; so he was surprised at how vivid the semi-arid landscape appeared today. The cerulean sky, the whiteness of high clouds and the deep brown tracts of fertile earth, interspersed with the emerald-green sprouts of early seed crops, jarred his vision. He'd been told that the prairies were usually yellow, or brown, dry and dusty under the unforgiving sun. But perhaps Jack hadn't been here long enough to fully appreciate the stunning beauty of this strange land in springtime.

He'd called Jack when he landed at the airport in the city, just a brief one on the cell to prevent Jack's scrambled line from being traced, and Jack had given short instructions on how to get to his place. "Rent a truck," he'd advised gruffly. "You'll fit in better around here. Drive out of the city on the main highway until you reach secondary road nine and turn left. Stay on number nine, head north and east, until you come to the top of a long curved hill. It's about two hours out. Driveway's on your left, it's marked by a grove of trees. It's a blind hill and a hidden driveway so be careful when you turn. I'll meet you when you get in." And he'd hung up. The call had lasted all of twenty-three seconds.

Tony was about fifteen minutes out now. The drive was uneventful because there wasn't much traffic on these roads, just the occasional farm truck, so he mulled over the reasons for this visit. Jack had been away for about eight months now; eight months since he'd saved the country yet again from near-total destruction from Marwan's dirty bomb; eight months since he'd stormed the Chinese embassy to capture a Chinese national who had been aiding the terrorists; eight months since that ass-wipe of an acting United States president repaid his service by agreeing to turn him over to the Chinese--

Eight months since Jack had supposedly died at the hands of the government whom he'd prized above everything else just so he wouldn't end up with the Chinese.

And indeed, for all intents and purposes Jack Bauer was officially dead. Posthumously decorated for exemplary service to the country; cremated, mourned, and almost forgotten.

Just as they'd planned.

It had been eight months of silence punctuated only by the occasional brief phone call--just long enough to say "Hi, I'm still here, I'm OK." Not long enough for Tony to be convinced that was true. Now Tony was taking time out to visit the dead man surreptitiously, to see for himself how Jack was faring--an overnight trip to persuade himself that Jack was surviving as well as he claimed. He couldn't afford to stay longer, if he wasn't back by tomorrow night he'd be missed at work, and he didn't want to draw any undue attention to himself. He might not be in CTU any longer, but he still needed to be careful. Also, Michelle could need him any time, though she insisted she would be all right alone for one night.

And he came to visit to give him some news; news that at any other time would be reason to celebrate; news that Tony decided in the end could only be delivered personally, rather than during a hurried phone call, because it was news that he was loathe to deliver when Jack was alone. He had a sneaking feeling that for this news, Jack might want (_or need_) to have a friend around.

He was coming up to the hill now; there was the long crest with the grove of cottonwoods at the top marking the hidden driveway. He slowed down and prepared to turn.

****************************  
(The following takes place between 4:00 pm and 5:00 pm.)

Dust rose from the gravel and the tires skidded on contacting the driveway. A slight incline from the highway led up towards the main house and outbuildings. Tony stopped the truck, parking alongside the black GMC Sierra at the end of the driveway; he shut the engine off, got out and looked around.

The house was large, a renovated farmhouse with a low back roof and wide front porch. It was in excellent repair; the white wood siding had been freshly painted, and (Tony had to smirk at this) there was a good-sized well-tended garden surrounding the porch and leading halfway out into the lawn. _Jack Bauer has a green thumb_, he thought with wry amusement. _Will wonders never cease? _There was, however, no sign of the man, so Tony walked around to the back to check, boots crunching through the stones.

The back lawn was surrounded on three sides by a grove of young elm trees, and, oddly enough, had a child's playhouse/swing set nestled to one side. It was much cooler and more comfortable in the shade compared to out front, and he noted two lounge chairs set out in the middle of the back grass. _Probably sits back here evenings._ In all, Jack had set himself up not too badly, he decided, on this acreage miles from the nearest town--it was comfortable, if isolated, but right now he figured that was precisely what he needed. Though he'd never pegged Jack as a prairie man, it somehow seemed to fit.

Still looking around, he strolled to the edge of the hill; he could literally see for miles here, intently surveying the endless sea of land that stretched out before him all the way to the horizon. The black ribbon of highway snaked through the valley below and around the green expanse of treeless rolling hills; he saw the small roaming dots of cattle grazing in the lull of late afternoon. Tony couldn't help but feel a little awe-struck. He'd heard this land called God's country before; only now he believed it, staring up for a minute at the arching sky. Here was a place he could conceivably live with Michelle if they ever decided to break away from LA; here was a place to breathe.

Tony wandered back around to the front, turned left, and saw Jack sauntering out from the ramshackle barn on the edge of the prairie, wiping his hands on his jeans. He'd let his straw-blond hair grow out a little and it hung in his eyes, making him look years younger. Jack looked healthier than Tony had remembered from the last time he'd seen him; tanned, not so gaunt, and more relaxed than he'd ever remembered him to be.

A large chocolate brown Labrador retriever loped eagerly alongside Jack; the dog saw Tony first and ran towards him, barking excitedly. When Jack looked up, his face cracked into a broad welcoming grin.

"Hey, Tony, how're you doing?" he called, and jogged towards Tony, hand extended.

"Hey man, good to see you." Tony grasped the proffered hand and covered it with his other one.

Jack clapped Tony on the shoulder. "How was the trip? Find the place easy enough?"

"Pretty uneventful. And yeah, it was easy to find. Couldn't miss it." He reached down to scritch the dog's ears. "And who is this?"

"Ah yes, Tony, meet Kola. She's supposed to be a guard dog, but she tends more to be a lounge dog," he snickered lightly.

"Hey, Kola." Tony patted the dog's head and she nuzzled right up to him. "Friendly, aren't you?"

"She's great. Grab your stuff and take it inside and I'll show you around."

****************************

(The following takes place between 7:00 pm and 8:00 pm.)

Tony had been impressed with the walking tour of the acreage, even more so when he learned that Jack was fixing it up by himself, as a renovation project, just to keep busy. He and Jack had wandered around and Jack pointed out the items that had needed fixing, renovating or replacing. "The roof, the flooring, the siding--" and the house did look almost fully restored, with gleaming hardwood floors and bright airy spaces. It seemed entirely alien to Tony--Jack Bauer domesticated--but Jack looked so pleased and proud that Tony didn't think about it anymore. The man had been through enough these past few years, it was time to heal--and he felt uneasy.

They'd had dinner--steaks of course ("We need to support the local ranchers up here," Jack had commented, and Tony had raised a skeptical eyebrow--the idea of Jack Bauer cooking was even more foreign than the idea of Jack Bauer-the-handyman--but dammit, even he had to admit they'd been grilled to perfection), then they'd settled on the lounge chairs in the back garden with two bottles of beer between them. Kola laid her head on Tony's knee ("I think she likes you," Jack had smirked), and it felt like any other normal evening, two old friends shooting the breeze in the lazy dwindling daylight, just catching up on each other's lives. Tony wished it could stay that way.

He started off though, with his own happy news first.

"Twins?" TWINS?" Jack almost shouted in surprised, and genuine, joy. A huge grin split his face, and he reached over and wrung Tony's hand so hard it might have fallen off.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Six months already." He couldn't help but grin too, proudly, even shyly. "I can't believe it. Well, I can when I look at Michelle," he amended quickly. "She's pretty big."

Jack's smile took on a wistful cast and sat back in his chair. "Have I been away that long?"

"It's been eight months, Jack. You know I thought you would've stayed on in Mexico."

"I did too, but with some of Ramon Salazar's former henchmen still lurking around--" Jack shrugged. "I almost ran into a few of them down there more than once." His eyes took on a distant, troubled look, then he briefly wiped his nose with his hand and recovered. "So I thought I'd head north for a while and settle around here for a bit. We used to live in Great Falls when my dad was stationed at Malmstrom. He came up here all the time to hunt, always loved the country up here." He raised his beer bottle and grinned again warmly. "Cheers, man."

They clinked bottles and sipped. Jack then grinned and shook his head in disbelief. "Of all people I never figured you would be a father, Tony. I mean, I can see Michelle as a mother, but--"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony rolled his eyes, "and I'll be dropping them on their heads, right?" Jack snickered, and Tony had to laugh too. "It's strange, but I really am looking forward to it. It's like a second chance, and you don't get those--" he stopped, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing, but Jack was nodding in agreement. "Michelle is just ecstatic. It's been a little difficult, carrying twins, she's had some problems but she's never been happier."

"And she let you come up here?"

"Ordered me, actually."

Jack leaned back in the lounge chair and looked up at the darkening sky. "She deserves this. You both do."

"Thanks, man."

They sat for a bit in companionable silence. Tony though grew increasingly tense. While his own happy news had obviously been welcome to Jack, he didn't know how Jack would take the next bit--the real reason why he'd come to visit in person. Especially since it concerned Kim. He couldn't put it off any longer--Jack had to know--but now he'd wished he'd brought Michelle with him. He took a deep breath.

"I saw Kim and Chase a couple days ago," Tony finally said, hiding his reluctance to speak any further behind a generous swig of Grasshopper ale.

"Really? How are they?" Jack's voice, though fond, tightened just a bit and the light in his eyes dulled, though barely perceptibly. Tony didn't need to read Jack to know just how much he missed his daughter.

"Good. Better than good, Jack." Here it was; Tony forced himself to relax. "They're--they're expecting too. You're going to be a grandfather, Jack. Congratulations."

Jack gaped at him, thoroughly stunned; then he turned away and Tony swore he saw a slight tremble in the set of his shoulders. "Really? Really? That's--that's great, Tony." He was forcing himself to sound excited, Tony knew. "Just--great. So--so I'm going to be a grandfather." His arm moved; Tony knew it was so he could pinch the bridge of his nose and wipe his face, the classic Jack Bauer gestures of regaining self-control; he heard an audible sniff. When he turned back around, he was grinning lopsidedly, though the smile did not touch his eyes.

"Yeah." Tony kept his voice deliberately even. "Kim's about three months along. She's not showing yet, but she will soon. She and Chase are thrilled and they're really looking forward to it."

A beat of silence.

Two.

"Congratulations, Jack," he repeated sincerely.

"Yeah--thanks." They shook hands again, but Jack's grip was considerably weaker this time and he was having trouble meeting Tony's concerned gaze.

"She'll be a good mother," Jack said hoarsely. Tony winced at the hollowness in Jack's voice. "You know I'm happy for her and Chase."

"I know."

"Want another beer?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm going to get another one, I'll be back--" Jack rose quickly and went into the house, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts.

He wondered briefly, whether to go after him or not; no, it was best to leave him his space for now. Jack was a private man who preferred to suffer alone, but Tony hoped Jack knew he wasn't alone in this.

Although his own situation, he realized sourly, might be considered a slap in the face. He wouldn't have had it though, if it hadn't been for Jack. That phone call eight months ago had saved him, he knew, had given Tony Almeida back his life. Jack had indirectly given him back Michelle, and a future. God knew that Jack deserved a happy one too...

That morning eight months ago, after they'd said their somewhat awkward goodbyes and shook hands, Tony had watched Jack walk resolutely toward the orange glow of sunrise, to the waiting trains in the yard. Tony's eyes had stung badly as he watched Jack's slowly retreating back; at the time he swore to himself that it was only the acrid smog hanging in the air that irritated his eyes.

Though he couldn't help but think, _sure they'd brought Jack back to life to escape--but to what?_

And then there was Kim.

Kim of course didn't know that Jack hadn't been killed in CTU. Jack had thought it was better that way. Letting her believe her father was dead, letting her go without a goodbye, had been the hardest thing Tony knew Jack had ever done. So Tony promised he would take care of her.

The day of the staged funeral had been too bright and sunny. It should have been raining, but it hardly ever rained in Los Angeles. He'd enfolded Jack's only daughter in his arms as she sobbed brokenly into his neck and he wanted to cry too; with Kim, for Kim, and for Jack, for having to keep Jack's secret from this young woman who believed she was now completely alone in the world.

Not until later that night--sitting alone in his living room as Michelle slept exhausted in their bed, and with the false company of a bottle of Jack Daniels' finest--did Tony finally allow himself to cry as he drank, trying his best to forget but compelled to remember all the same. He shook his head in frustration as the tears slid down his face; he hated that he was drinking, he hated that he was crying, he hated that he was drinking in order to cry. Though eventually the whisky served its purpose and numbed him completely, and sometime around two in the morning he passed out. Waking up in the armchair with a pounding hang-over the next day, he nevertheless dragged himself into the office to finish the paperwork that finalized his and Michelle's own resignations from CTU.

Tony hadn't touched a drop of hard liquor since then.

But, Tony thought, he'd had it relatively easy this time around: he got everything back. While Jack Bauer had slowly lost everything over these past four and a half years. His wife and unborn child to a twisted double agent; his health to the brutal torture he'd endured; his dignity when he took up smack as part of his undercover op; his moral compass, when he killed Chappelle; his happiness with Audrey, when he chose a terrorist's life over that of the man who took a bullet for him; finally his entire identity, abandoned by the very government he'd sacrificed everything to defend.

And yet, he'd dealt. Picked himself up, dusted himself off, and soldiered on in the face of those staggering losses. Every. Single. Time. There was no one he knew who was possibly as strong as Jack Bauer.

Conversely, there was no one else he knew who was so desperately alone. It wasn't right.

Jack hadn't come back yet since going in. Tony got out of his lounge chair to look, Kola trailing behind, and found him leaning against the front porch rail, staring blankly out into his front yard, with a bottle of Scotch dangling from the tips of his fingers. So Tony wordlessly sat down on the steps beside him.

****************************

(The following takes place between 11:00 pm and 12:00 am.)

Tonight Tony drank hard liquor with Jack, for the first time in eight months, if only to keep him company; though he kept strictly to sipping a couple of shots while Jack crawled far too eagerly into the single-malt Scotch. It was an unseasonably warm and humid night for late May, in contrast to the dryness of the day; heavy clouds began to roll in and the air hung close and thick around them, promising rain.

For most of the evening they sat on the steps of the front porch, speaking very little, just listening idly to the chirping of the crickets in the grass and playing fetch with Kola, until the sun dropped behind the horizon. In the graying twilight the sand flies picked up, smelling the incipient rain, and the mosquitoes came out to feed on warm blood; once they started slapping themselves more than the pests, they retired inside.

In the darkened living room, Jack sat on one end of the couch with his legs folded beneath him and Tony sat in the nearby armchair. Kola curled up on the opposite end of the couch. One tumbler, and three bottles of Scotch, sat on the scuffed wooden coffee table between them. One of the bottles was empty, the second just started; Tony wondered just how often Jack sat alone like this in the quiet dark, with or without the Scotch for company. He seemed far too comfortable with it.

Jack finally staggered off the couch to head upstairs to bed. He took two steps before his knees wobbled and he landed on the floor with a hard thud, shaking violently. Tony thought, _this is it_, trying to prepare himself with a sinking heart as he knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

But when Jack raised his bowed head, those striking, haunted blue/green eyes were bone-dry. In some way that was even worse than if he'd collapsed sobbing--that he felt he could almost better deal with, though only just barely. And again he wished Michelle had come along--she'd know far better what to do. He didn't know how to handle--

"You know what the worst of it is?" Jack mumbled almost incoherently; the first real words he'd uttered aloud all evening.

"What, Jack?" Tony replied softly.

"Teri always wanted to be a grandmother," Jack whispered brokenly. "I never used to care one way or the other, but she--she loved kids, she wanted a whole brood of them, and when it was just Kim--And now she'll never know she has a grandchild, and I'll never even be able to tell her."

Tony hauled Jack up, half onto his shoulders and half-walked, half-dragged his friend up the flight of stairs and into the master bedroom just off the landing. He dropped Jack gently onto the queen-size bed, swung his legs up and over, tugged off his scuffed shoes and peeled off his socks. Jack lay senseless on the bed as Tony unfastened his belt and pulled Jack's jeans off, leaving the T-shirt and boxers. He layered the sheets and duvet over him, and started to leave the room, preparing himself for a restless night on the sofa downstairs.

He stopped short at Jack's slurred, desperate voice--a Scotch-smoothed gravel that ripped him right through--and Tony had to clutch at the door jamb to keep himself steady.

"Don' leave me."

_Oh fuck, Jack. _"Sure. Okay." Tony's voice was gentle, level, trying to disguise the grief for his friend that suddenly welled in his chest and threatened to spill over. _Dammit, not now--_He returned and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, reaching out to ruffle Jack's sweaty hair. The air had turned cold now, and he heard the wind pick up beyond the window, perhaps to fulfill that earlier promise of rain.

"Don' leave me, Tony."

"I'm here, I'm not leaving." Tony tried to sound steady and soothing through the pain, his calloused hand smoothing out the damp dirty blond strands off his forehead.

"Don' go--"

"Sshh. Sleep now, Jack."

"Can'--"

"Yes you can."

"Not 'lone, Tony. Stay."

"Sshh..."

"Please."

Tony closed his eyes against the plaintive, almost silent whisper. Jack Bauer had never, ever begged for anything, not as long as he'd known him. Not for anything, before this--Tony stripped to his boxers and T-shirt and slid under the covers beside Jack, putting a hesitant arm around Jack's shoulders, and Jack burrowed instinctively into him, craving warmth, touch, simple human comfort even in this drunken state. Tony leaned a stubbled cheek against Jack's limp hair. _It comes to this_, he thought hopelessly. _We all break, even Jack--God, I'm so sorry..._

And Tony Almeida wondered, for the first time in his life, if he were indeed strong enough to be able to pick up the shattered pieces of his friend anymore.

"I'm here," he soothed again, feeling utterly helpless. Jack clutched a handful of Tony's T-shirt in his fist and gripped tightly. In the dim light of the room Tony could just make out the faint tell-tale needle tracks up and down Jack's ropy forearms; thankfully just old healed ones, and none new, though now Tony wouldn't have blamed him in the least if there had been. He then felt ragged breathing against his neck and sudden dampness on his shirt; Jack was weeping silently into his shoulder. Tony tightened his embrace, wordlessly willing Jack _peace now, and sleep_. He remained awake until he felt the raggedness slow to light, even breaths, and the man relax into an uneasy slumber; Tony at last allowed the heaviness in his own eyelids to overtake him.

****************************

(The following takes place between 4:00 am and 5:00 am.)

Tony woke up in the suspended glow between darkness and dawn; the time when it was neither light nor dark, but completely gray, and its cast of shadow unreal. Rising from a surprisingly deep slumber, he felt a relaxing, warm presence beside him; and for a minute he was confused, thinking _how the hell had Michelle managed to squeeze onto the sofa with him at home? Jesus, at six months she was already bigger than some full-term ladies, there was no way she'd be able to fit... _But it didn't feel right, if it were Michelle there would be the swells of breast and gravid belly, not these flat planes, folded around him--

Then he saw the unfamiliar slants of rising narrow daylight through the slit between heavy blue curtains; hearing the patter of steady spring rain from outside, he dazedly remembered where he was, and why. _Jack--he was here because Jack had asked him to be here, had asked him to stay-- _And he had stayed, because he was Jack's friend, and he had privately vowed he would help Jack pick up the pieces even if it meant his own heart shattered in the process.

But, somber as it was, all the same Tony oddly reveled in it, maybe more than he should have--simply to be in a bed again, instead of sleeping on the sofa at home to keep Michelle comfortable through a difficult pregnancy; and to lie beside someone close and solid and simply _there_ was, well-- to have slept soundly for a few hours, lulled by the companionable warmth and steady breathing of another friendly body; something he'd sorely missed these past months because Michelle's comfort was paramount. All these disjointed thoughts crept through his sleep-addled brain, and it was all strangely soothing ... Jack was curled right up against him, chest against his side, warm humid Scotch-laced breath huffing lightly on his neck, one arm slung carelessly over his waist, pressing in--

Pressing--

Rocking slowly, almost languidly, back and forth, a growing erection nudging against his thigh--

_Oh dear God._

Jack was doing this in his sleep. He had to be--because even piss-assed drunk, Jack Bauer was normally too controlled a man to ask for anything beyond the usual niceties of friendship. Tony didn't think he could bear to ask otherwise--God, if Jack woke up right now and realized--

Tony wasn't sure either, how best to extricate himself from this situation. Rationally, he knew he should just roll over, pull away and pretend it was just an effect of dreaming; it would be easiest for both of them and they wouldn't have to fumble with explanations otherwise.

But Lord it had been so long--four months at least, since Michelle had had that bleeding scare in the first trimester and the doctor had categorically ruled out sex for the rest of the pregnancy ... since they'd been ... intimate. Tony was growing very hard, very quickly and almost automatically with the thought. Straining against the thin cotton of his boxers, just with the remote, but tantalizing prospect of another person's touch, he was mortified that it was his best friend's seemingly unconscious rocking against his thigh that was arousing him--

_Oh fuck. _

At the same time though, in the sleepy pre-dawn haze, he was strangely accepting of it. In his half-doze, Tony knew what Jack was asking, perhaps in the only way he could--they both knew far too much about loneliness anymore--and Tony could live with that. So Tony rolled over to face Jack. Jack stopped, pulling away abruptly as if ashamed of being caught, as if embarrassed about having this need; and so Tony knew it maybe wasn't just sleep influencing him after all. Well, it was sleep, and nearness, and alcohol, and warmth, but--_Oh God, Jack _... and as Tony felt Jack shrink away and retreat inwards again he found himself considering what it all meant--

For in an eye-widening moment, Tony Almeida had pinpointed the precise instant Jack Bauer's world fell completely apart.

It had been in the set of Jack's jaw, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way he'd avoided Tony's searching eyes and flinched at Tony's hand on his shoulder when Tony broke the bittersweet news. Jack hadn't melted into a sobbing, shaking mess on the floor; Jack Bauer wasn't like that. Nor had he exploded with a fist to Tony's face, though Tony rather wished he'd had; a blooming fist-shaped bruise under his eye would have been much easier to deal with than this, he thought, blinking rapidly. He would never forgive himself for being the arbiter of Jack's now-shattered world--friends weren't supposed to break each other--and he had to make it up somehow. There wasn't much Tony could offer Jack anymore, he knew.

Except perhaps-- a bit of closeness. A sort of comfort.

_Release._ He could give him that--he owed him that at least, because of what Jack had given back to him. "It's all right," Tony murmured finally, only a faintest brush of a whisper, and pulled Jack back tightly against him.

_Yeah, it was all right_, he thought distantly, feeling Jack relax gratefully in his embrace, and he relaxed too. _Warmth, nearness-_\- There was nothing wrong with having a need, nothing wrong with Jack wanting to smooth away the jagged edges of loneliness for a while--and there was nothing wrong about Tony wanting to help him through it.

With a release of pent-up breath, they clung to each other--Tony buried his face in Jack's hair, smelling sawdust and sunlight and Scotch and _Jack, _while Jack dropped his head in the space between Tony's neck and shoulder, his stubbled cheek rasping lightly against his skin. They rocked against each other slowly with the awkward almost-rhythm of two men who did not yet know how to move together. It was a languid, pleasant pressure, a holding that was more comforting than sexual, even lulling; such that Tony, starting to drift off again, was only vaguely aware of Jack suddenly stopping to pull down both their boxers past their hips with one impatient hand.

Tony shot fully awake as hard slick skin slid against hard slick skin, both gasping at the searing contact, stunned at the jolts of heated pleasure that shot from their groins and pulsed through their veins. _Holy fuck_\--and the fire only seemed to increase, radiating throughout their bodies, and somehow soon they both managed to wriggle out of their boxers completely, and to push their T-shirts up so that their bellies touched, and Tony groaned helplessly at the hot flush of skin against his own.

Jack rolled them over, nudging his legs apart to kneel between; the full heated weight of Jack's body rested on Tony's for a heartbeat, then Jack shifted slightly for better leverage between them. Hands planted on either side of Tony's head into the pillow, he pushed himself off Tony's body, raised his head and, lips parted, stared directly into Tony's eyes, strands of wet blond hair plastered to his forehead and puffs of humid air ghosting over Tony's face. Tony held that burning gaze for what seemed an infinite moment, his own deep brown eyes boring into brilliant blue/green, eyes that were now darkened and hooded by raw, soul-burning _want--_

It was all about need now for both of them, caring for nothing beyond this bed, these arms, this driving pleasure-pain, and this promise of _touch_. Yet, motionless, Jack hovered hesitantly above him for that endless second, as if seeking final permission; then Tony thrust his hips up and pulled Jack down against him, granting a silent approval.

With that they quickly found a common rhythm, tentative at first, soon steadily growing to fast and urgent; still with gazes locked, they found themselves caught in the rub of cotton between their chests and velvety bare skin between their bellies and the blazing friction of hardened flesh below. Jack's fingers twined in the dark curls of Tony's hair at his neck, and his other hand slid restlessly up and down Tony's flank. One of Tony's hands caressed the back of Jack's head, while the other reached down to knead one taut buttock, fingers grazing too close to the cleft between, and Jack arched his back in shocked pleasure as one finger brushed--

"Oh fucking _Jesus_," Jack hissed; bearing down on Tony's pelvis with all his weight, he bent his head and kissed Tony full on the lips, long and rough and clumsy and hungry. Sandpaper-like stubble scraped Tony's chin as Jack sucked desperately at Tony's lower lip; Tony was almost too far gone now to even worry about the meaning of it. His mouth simply opened eagerly to draw Jack's tongue in with his own, tasting him, sharing his breath, giving just as much back and demanding _more_ as his hand slipped down to Jack's shoulder, pulling him in--

_Jesus H. Christ_ Jack _gave_ it, arms tight around him heart pounding in his ear staccato breaths lips tracing the outlines of his mouth and pressed to his--and all reasoning, all conscious thought and guilt burnt to nothingness in white-hot flame. All that mattered now were two near-naked and sweaty bodies pushing feverishly against each other in rising narrow daylight; the steady background hiss of rain, rhythmic slap-sliding of skin on skin and the counterpoint of creaking mattress springs beneath; the scent of hot salt musk flooding their nostrils; the wet sloppy pressing of kiss-swollen lips and twining of searching tongues; the skating of restless hands over hard muscles and flesh; and the throbbing ache in their groins that pulsed tighter and tighter with each thrust. Tony was so close now, the unbearable heat threatening to engulf him, when Jack lost their fierce rhythm first and shimmied erratically against his hips, bearing down with all his strength, breath puffing in harsh ragged bursts; all coiled in, he hung suspended on the edge for just a split second, then tumbled over it, his wordless cries swallowed by Tony's ravening kisses. Tony felt the release of sticky warmth onto his stomach and immediately lost any remaining control he might have had, moaning Jack's name into his mouth as his own shuddering climax consumed him.

Jack collapsed on top of Tony; both utterly undone, they simply rested together, breaths ragged in their ears, just trying to remember to breathe. Jack leaned his sweat-sheened forehead on Tony's shoulder and Tony slowly relaxed his arms around his broad damp back into a loose, comforting embrace. Jack began to shiver uncontrollably, with what might have been a chill; Tony reached out blindly for the thick duvet that had largely slipped off the bed and covered their bodies with it. Jack rolled off to lay beside him, hiding his face with one shaking hand; with the other he reached out to grasp Tony's, and squeezed. Tony squeezed back, not wanting to speak; then side-by-side, in silence save for the steady rain, they drifted off to sleep again as the sun rose from somewhere behind the heavy clouds, their hands still clasped tightly together.

****************************

(The following takes place between 9:00 am and 10:00 am.)

Tony woke up alone to a room filled with streaming bright sunlight through the crack in the curtain and the mouth-watering smells of cooking bacon and fresh coffee wafting from downstairs. This time he knew exactly where he was--he simply lay for a minute, blearily contemplating the white whorled ceiling above him. Though he was comfortably warm beneath the duvet, the damp and sticky sheets stuck to various places on his body, serving as all-too-vivid reminders of what had happened earlier that morning--

His mind reluctantly mulled over what had happened--Jack had been drunk, and alone, and had needed--and he had needed too, and had given--and at the time sex had simply seemed right, and necessary; but now in the full brilliant light of day Tony wasn't sure if that were still true. They were friends, they hadn't intended--they weren't gay or anything--it had been mutual comfort that had turned physical, _was all_, Tony wanted to convince himself to believe. It was only this once, a stupid sleep-and-alcohol-induced mistake, and it would not likely happen again. At least he hoped Jack would see it that way; it was easiest for both of them to bear.

He knew this was going to be awkward. Still, he had to be back at the airport to catch his flight in just a few hours; there was no use pretending to sleep in until he had to leave, and he couldn't avoid Jack anyway as it was his house, and Tony was his guest. So he fished his discarded boxers from the foot of the bed, got up and padded into the adjoining bathroom. Jack had brought his bag upstairs and thoughtfully left a selection of towels to use; and by now the food downstairs was too tempting to ignore so Tony quickly showered, shaved and dressed, then went to the kitchen.

He stood at the sink and glanced out the kitchen window. The rain had washed away the dust and left everything cleaner, fresher, greener than yesterday.

"Hey, you're up," Jack commented, his voice carefully light. "Have some breakfast."

Tony took his cue from that, so they chatted easily enough through toasted bacon and tomato sandwiches and coffee, catching up on other happenings since Jack had "died", and they tacitly avoided anything having to do with Kim, or what had happened earlier. The sun flooded through the window and Kola nestled comfortably at Tony's knee, and he slipped her some choice bacon slices; and Jack pretended not to notice; and it felt for a minute, sort of like old times.

Then Jack stared at Tony intently, leaning against the kitchen sink and hands cupped around a well-worn mug. "Tony--about this morning--" Jack began, and faltered. All the awkwardness both had dreaded, flooded back in full force; their gazes met and Jack looked away quickly, embarrassed and blinking rapidly.

Tony stared at the floor for a long uneasy moment, then finally found his voice. "Don't be sorry, Jack," Tony said quietly, lifting his head to meet him. "I'm not." As he said it he realized it was true.

Jack looked at him again, his face unreadable for a few seconds, then he relaxed and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Tony simply nodded. "Sure," he murmured, and they left it at that.

****************************

(The following takes place between 10:00 am and 11:00 am.)

Jack walked with Tony out to the truck sitting in the driveway. Hours were now minutes, and soon minutes would be seconds, before Tony would leave Jack to whatever world he had created for himself, and now there was too much--and too little--to say. Tony opened then closed his mouth, unable to speak around the sudden lump growing in his throat.

Tony swung his bag into the cab and stood uncertainly at the open door, head bowed, hesitating. Tony couldn't just climb into the cab and wave goodbye as he drove out onto the highway. Neither knew when they'd see the other again--if ever--but he felt at a loss. Their last goodbye had been too short, their all-too-brief handshake hadn't been nearly enough to voice the too many unspoken words between them--just as this visit had been too short, when it felt they'd had barely long enough to say hello. Jack stood behind him, at the edge of the pebbled driveway and the still-wet grass, Kola at his side, just--watching. Tony looked at the ground for a moment, then looked back up again and walked towards Jack, his hand extended.

Jack clasped the proffered hand firmly, then pulled Tony into a tight embrace. "You'll let me know when the babies are born?" Jack said, the words muffled against Tony's shoulder. Tony knew Jack wasn't just talking about his and Michelle's own set of twins.

"You'll be the first to know," Tony promised gruffly, clapping his back and fully returning the hug, unwilling to let go. "Keep in touch, old man."

Jack drew back reluctantly and rolled his eyes at the jab. "Old man my ass, Almeida, I'm younger than you are. Don't worry, you'll hear from me."

"Sure." Their eyes met and held. "Will you be all right?"

Jack nodded slowly; his eyes were shadowed, but he did not tear his gaze away. "Yeah. I will be." And Tony knew, that that was also true.

"OK. Take care, Jack."

"Yeah. You too."

It was time now, to leave; they shook hands, and there was nothing more left to say. Tony went back to the truck, climbed in, shut the door and started the ignition. He turned the truck around to leave the driveway, keeping Jack's retreating form in the side-view mirror until he disappeared from view behind the small hill, and reached the exit. Then he turned right onto the waiting highway, to head back towards the city, the airport, Michelle, and home.


End file.
